


The Risks We Take

by my_idiot_stories



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC canon divergence, Happy Ending, I attempted to make this fluffy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Johnlock being cute, M/M, Mentions/references Clara, Minor Violence, Parentlock, Sibling Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_idiot_stories/pseuds/my_idiot_stories
Summary: "Listen, John, I was wondering if you would want to come over? Sometime. 'Cause I, y'know, I haven't seen Rosie in a while and I was thinking we could..." Harry doesn't finish. She leaves the sentence hanging because finishing the request makes it real. It makes it harder to acceptNo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank [alliaskofyou](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alliaskofyou) for being a great beta reader. I cannot thank her enough. This is my first fic and she was so incredibly helpful. Go check out her work; she's fantastic!

There's a comfortable silence surrounding 221b; Sherlock staring disapprovingly at the experiments on the kitchen table, Rosie sound asleep upstairs, and John sitting in his chair while reading the newspaper. Nothing too exciting. No need to bother the great Consulting Detective.

The three of them have settled into their lives. They're comfortable. No one's alone and the things they wanted to say but didn't are finally out there in the open. It was nice for John to live in a place that felt like home, with people who really felt like family.

A phone ringing disrupts the quiet. John folds the newspaper and checks his phone.

**Harry.**

It's not exactly dread that he feels. More like...slight worry?

There have been a few instances where Harry and John got together but there was always something that was never acknowledged. John isn’t scared of his sister and he definitely doesn’t dislike her. They just dealt with things differently. For John, dealing with it meant distance. Now that he’s come to terms with a few of his emotions, he has a little hope for their relationship. Emphasis on little.

He stares at the screen. _Should I? It's been so long. I don't know what to say._

He hears a loud sigh from behind him. "For God's sake, John, just answer it."

John turns his head around in surprise. Sherlock has his eyes glued to the table, posture slumped like it usually is when he's bored and trying to contain himself, robe hanging on the back of his chair. John gives him an annoyed look. "Why?" He wasn't even going to ask if or how he knew who was calling. Sherlock obviously knew. Of course he did.

John was being selfish. He was aware of that. Being around Harry just reminded him of the terrible times in his childhood and her early adulthood. He knew she was trying to get better. He just hadn't mustered up the courage to have a real conversation with her. 

"She called you. Isn't that what people usually do when they want to talk?" Sherlock hadn't moved his head at all. Still staring at the mess in the kitchen, like he was willing it to cooperate with him.

John looks down at the phone in his hand with a solemn expression. He takes a steadying breath and answers it.

"Hello?" John's voice cracks ever so slightly. He clears his throat.

"Hey!" Her smooth voice comes out with a cheerful reply, "Um, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," he gets up and walks toward the window, "You?"

"Good. Great. I'm...better." She sounds like she means it. John lets a small smile onto his face.

"Listen, John, I was wondering if you would want to come over? Sometime. 'Cause I, y'know, I haven't seen Rosie in a while and I was thinking we could..." she doesn't finish. She leaves the sentence hanging because finishing the request makes it real. It makes it harder to accept _No_.

He hesitates for a second, startled. "Yeah," John says in (what he hopes to be) a happy tone, "We could. I'm sure Rosie would love that." He looks back at Sherlock. He's still sitting in the same place, just slightly turned in John's direction. Sherlock's face is open, inquisitive.

"Perfect! How does Saturday work for you? Around six."

John stammers "T-that's alright. Yeah. Would you mind if I brought...my..." he searches for the right word. He fails to say it out loud. It's still new and, though wonderful, confusing. Sherlock's lips curve upwards slightly as John awkwardly looks away.

"The detective?" Harry asks slowly. He can tell she's fighting back a laugh, "You can if you want. Whatever you want. I just feel like seeing you. It's been a while."

"It has." John closes his eyes as he says this. He slowly starts pacing from the window to his chair, back to the window.

"So I'll see you then."

"Yeah. I'll see you."

They're both quiet, mulling over everything they just agreed to.

"...I have to go now. Bye, John."

"Goodbye."

He hangs up the phone and falls into Sherlock's chair. Rubbing his temples, he looks up at Sherlock. "Can't believe I did that. Sorry I dragged you into this."

"It's fine," he replies calmly, "I've never officially met your sister. This could be fun."

"Since when is socializing fun for you?"

"Since now. Because I get to see for myself what the other Watson is like." There's a hint of playfulness in his voice.

John rubbed his forehead as his eyes squeezed shut. "Please don't make this an experiment."

Sherlock stands and walks into the other room to grab something (hopefully, not a dead body part). John catches the faintest glimpse of a smirk.

—————

“It’ll be alright, John,” Sherlock says, eyes focused in front of him. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of the car with John behind him, keeping a close eye on Rosie.

“That’s easy for you to say. She’s not _your_ sister.” John replies. He’s trying very hard not to feel nervous. It’s not working. John sighs. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say to her.”

“You’ll think of something. Besides, I’m sure she’ll spend most of the evening looking at Rosie, anyway. Most people do.” Sherlock didn’t expect that to happen this time, but he needed to say something to put John at ease.

John looks down at his daughter beside him with a small smile. After a pause, he says to her, “I’m positive your aunt will love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments are much appreciated! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There weren't a lot but when things were good, they were really good, John, you have no idea. But maybe that's the natural progression for all relationships. Maybe they all end like this..."
> 
> She falls silent, reminiscing in her sad love story. Then realizes something, "Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that since you're with someone right now, huh?" Harry chuckles softly, "How is that going, by the way?" 
> 
> John lifts an eyebrow. "You really want to talk about this?"
> 
> "Well, we hardly ever talk but I doubt one heart-to-heart will kill us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot longer than the first one and has much more exciting things happening in it so I hope you enjoy it!  
> There is a small reference to homophobia but it's only there for one sentence and doesn't change the story that much so, just a warning.  
> I'd also like to thank alliaskofyou again for all of her help. If it weren't for her, I'd still be worrying over the problems I had with this story.  
> Happy reading.

_This is not a job interview. He's your little brother. Loosen up._

Harry tugged at the hem of her dark blue T-shirt. She had tried on three outfits that day for her reunion. The first was a flowery sundress she had gotten tired of years ago but still held on to ( _for no reason in particular_ ). The second was basically a suit. This one she had on now was more comfortable, being a simple shirt and jeans, but they made her feel wrong. Normal. Casual. Like this is a normal, casual day and not incredibly stressful.

_You're fine. It's just John. You'll win him over. It's fine._

She hears the doorbell.

Harry sighs and marches across the hall to welcome her guests.

The front door opens slowly as Harry steps back to leave room for them to enter. “Hi.” She says, nervously looking between her brother and his daughter and his...Sherlock.

Sherlock is the first to step forward. He extends his left hand, right arm occupied with holding a toddler. “Hello. I’m Sherlock Holmes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry.”

She gives him a firm handshake and a nod. She doesn’t hate Sherlock, but something about him is slightly unsettling to her.

_Might have something to do with all the trauma you put my brother through. But...if John has accepted you into his life, why can’t I?_

“Likewise. And hello there, Rosie.” She smiles awkwardly at her niece. Rosie wiggles a little more in Sherlock’s grip, arms reaching out toward Harry. Harry chuckles and takes her tiny hand in hers and shakes it. 

The four of them stay there, waiting for the others to speak first. Harry decides to break the silence.

"Come on in. I just got some new furniture so you can help me determine whether or not to send everything back." _That is the weirdest way I've ever told someone to sit down._

John lets out a little laugh and walks over to the couch in the next room. Harry closes and locks the front door.

She really wanted to get back to what they were like before. She and John were so close. She wanted to be as welcoming as she possibly could.

She walks over to John seated on the long cream couch, arms resting at his sides, fingers tapping the cushion beneath him. Sherlock follows behind.

The two siblings share quick smiles as Harry sits down across from him on the matching recliner.

"So." John says distracted, letting his gaze drift toward his daughter and Sherlock.

"So." Harry replies. She stares at him, like doing that will grant her mind reading abilities.

"How come you never wanted to visit me?" She's surprised by the words that came out of her mouth. _Gee, that wasn't too sudden._

Sherlock looks quickly between them, gears turning in his head. John stares back at Harry, eyebrows lifted, a shocked look painted on his face. He’s speechless and visibly uncomfortable. Sherlock knows he’d hate to have an audience.

Outside in the backyard there are some flowers in an assortment of colorful pots. A few bees are flying above them. Sherlock studies them for a second and comes to a decision. “Would you mind if I brought Rosie outside to admire your flowers?”

Harry’s attention is put on the back door of her house. “Um, sure. Yeah.” She gets up and opens it, “Go ahead.”

Sherlock steps out with one last look at John. They have a silent conversation.

_It’s alright._

_I know. Thanks._

With the others now gone, Harry tries to mentally prepare herself. She stands still, eyes cast downward.

"I kept bringing it up and you never agreed to anything," Harry continued, "I know we went through some stuff and I became someone I...am not proud of and you had things going on in your life but..."

"I don't know." John interrupts. "I just...wasn't ready. I'm sorry."

Harry keeps looking down. She blames herself for this. If she had just taken more initiative in her life and fixed herself-

"It's OK." They both say it in unison. John had noticed Harry’s change in mood and felt the urge to comfort her. Harry just wanted to ensure John that it was fine and she was glad he took his time.

The two of them exchanged surprised looks and John let out another laugh.

Harry is slightly relieved by the sudden knock on the front door, however loud it may be. She quickly excuses herself from the uncomfortable conversation and goes down the hall.

She passes the decor on her walls and remembers Clara. Clara, who insisted on buying as many souvenirs as possible on their honeymoon. Clara, the woman who hung that painting and bought that shelf and slammed this door countless times on any of Harry's danger nights. _Maybe I should redecorate more. This isn't healthy for me. It's been years, but this still happens._

Lost in thought, she forgets to check who's outside before answering the door and it's-

She freezes.

 

_Oh, God._

_Oh, God. No..._

_Rosie!_

_Please, please, please, stay outside. Don't come back in. Please._

 

"Dad." she manages to choke out.

Harry's father manages to stumble inside, almost dropping the bottle he had in his hand.

"Harriet." He stresses the last syllable. He always hated calling her "Harry.” Always made a point not to.

He looks older than he did the last time they saw each other, but as if he had aged two decades instead of three years. Those features that were once smoother and handsome, now twisted and wrinkled and more intimidating. If that was possible.

He's dressed in raggedy old jeans and a plaid shirt that's bottomed uneven. Where he's been, Harry isn't sure she wants to know.

It strikes Harry every time she sees her father how much he and John look alike. Yet they're different. Polar opposites, really, not including the anger issues.

_John, please stay where you are._

_He'll leave soon._

_I'll get rid of him._

He slowly walks over to the white shelf by the front door and mindlessly traces a finger on the pot displayed there.

Rage starts to boil in Harry's chest. _Clara gave me that, don't you dare touch it._

"Why are you here?" She sounds firm and brave, it surprises her.

"Your mother told me." he replies, and she is immediately worried about her mother. _Why did I tell her about this? Does she know he's here? What did he do to her?_ Her father's rambling interrupts her thoughts. "I'm old, Harriet. I have a family but not really. I don't even know..." he picks up the pot with a far off look in his eye.

"Be careful with that!"

He waves a hand at her and nods, distracted. "I don't even have any grandchildren. You'd think I would by now." He looks accusingly at his daughter.

Harry sighs, "Well, I don't have any kids. You know this." Harry and Clara weren't married for very long. They never got around to considering...anything involving children. And there wasn't much of a chance of Harry getting pregnant because of some random guy. Plus, Harry didn’t think she was very good with children.

"And Johnny?" Her father asks.

Harry's heart stops. "Nope." She tries to keep a neutral expression.

He snorts and sets the pot down not too gently.

Harry rubs her forehead. "Look, you're very drunk and-"

"I'm fine!" He snaps. His voice seems to make the walls shake.

Harry flinches. "OK. But if you have something to say, just say it. I'd hate to take up too much of your time."

"Sick of me already? What? Need to get me out of your home? I thought this was a family reunion! You hiding something? Don't tell me it's a girl, I was sort of hoping you were over that." His voice slurs more and more as he speaks.

"N-no. I...just- I think you should leave."

"Do you now? I thought you'd be more helpful. You know what _this_ is like." He gestures violently with his hands, waving the bottle in front of her face.

He slams the pot down on the shelf again and Harry folds her arms as if to shield herself from him in some way.

"Why do you keep trying to...visit? If you hate us all so much, just leave! You obviously don't care enough! And we're grown ups now! You don't need to keep checking in to make sure I'm-"

**_Slap!_ **

She hasn't felt this sting for years but it's just as terrifying as she remembers. Harry stumbles back from the blow and covers her cheek with her hand.

They're both breathing heavy as he reaches forward.

Flashbacks of bruises and long sleeves in the summer fill her head. And suddenly there's a voice from behind yelling "Get the hell away from her!"

Harry's eyes fly open as she turns to hold John back.

"No! John, stop it!"

She heard her father's feet shuffle quickly on the floor. The only times John has ever tried to stand up for his family, he was just a kid. Not nearly as intimidating as he is now.

"John! Look at me. Calm down! Don't stoop to his level like this!" 

John struggles against her grip, staring daggers at their father.

Harry lowers her voice but keeps a firm tone, "John, he's never hit you. I don't want that to start now. Not ever!"

John releases himself from his sister's grasp and swings at his father. Harry attempts to pull him back but it doesn't work. There's a smack sound and a pained grunt and when it stops, their father is held back by John. 

He's hunched over, laughing to himself. "Guess I'm really not welcome here." John forcibly lifts him up and pushes him out the door.

The older Watson stumbles and struggles to regain his balance. "You're a waste of my time anyway...I'll get outta your hair, then!" He turns, arms swaying, bottle in hand, and leaves, the front door still open.

Harry rushes to slam it shut.

"What is wrong you!?" Harry yells at her brother's back, "You scared me."

"Oh, so I was supposed to let him hit you! I'm not a child anymore, Harry, I can handle myself!"

Frustrated, John starts to walk away into the dining room. Harry sighs and leans against the door.

Eventually, her heart calms down. She follows after John. He's not in there. She looks around confused, but finds him in the bathroom. He's staring horrified at his reflection. 

Harry quietly approaches "You're nothing like him, John." she says in what she wants to be a soothing voice but instead it comes out shaky. Tears threaten to fall but she holds back.

He forces his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. "I hate him."

Harry doesn't know what to say. "Yeah..." They stand there in silence. Sherlock and Rosie are still in the backyard, presumably playing like everything's normal, casual.

"You are nothing like him." she repeats herself, steady this time, "That was something you prided yourself on, right? It was the thing that motivated you to become a doctor."

John's eyes flash open and he turns toward her. "How do you know that?"

"When you were little...you wanted to take care of me and Mum. You promised you would but said you were too small and someday you'd help other people who are hurting too." 

John gives her a pained expression. She's reminded of that scared little boy who just can't understand why his mother is crying, alone at night.

Harry tries to release some of the tension, "You're still too small, but that obviously hasn't stopped you."

John chuckles despite himself. 

 

Soon after, they're sitting at the table, non-alcoholic drinks in hand, watching Sherlock and Rosie out the window. He’s knelt down pointing at the bees above the flowers and talking to Rosie in a very excited manner.

Harry stares at the drink in her hands and furrows her brow. "I worry about becoming like him too." She admits quietly. John doesn't reply ( _Was he always this quiet or is it just me?_ ) so she continues, "That anxiety has been there for a while. Fun fact: I ruined my marriage. Mostly because of the drinking. But I realized that and before it got too bad, I ended things with Clara. We were always fighting but...the drinking. That’s what did it."

When she starts rambling, it's slow, like she's searching for the perfect words to string together. "Y'know, a part of me hates her. But there will always be something there. I'll always love Clara, I know that. And it hurts. 'Cause I held on to the good times. There weren't a lot but when things were good, they were really good, John, you have no idea. But maybe that's the natural progression for all relationships. Maybe they all end like this..."

She falls silent, reminiscing in her sad love story. Then realizes something, "Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that since you're with someone right now, huh?" Harry chuckles softly, "How is that going, by the way?" 

John lifts an eyebrow. "You really want to talk about this?"

"Well, we hardly ever talk but I doubt one heart-to-heart will kill us."

John stares at her for a moment and nods once. "Alright. It's, uhh...good. It's all...fine." He fights back a big smile.

"Yeah?" She looks at Sherlock and Rosie outside. "He's odd but he's attractive, I'll give him that."

"What?" John laughs.

"I'm gay, I'm not blind." She replies jokingly.

They both sit laughing together. It feels nice. Harry nudges John's arm. "Proud of you."

John is taken aback but he smiles, "You are?"

"I mean, your life seems great. You deserve that. And you seem happy! As you should be." Her gaze drifts to the toddler outside. "Look at her. You have a really cute kid, and I hate kids so that's a big compliment. You've done well for yourself. And...you're not exactly _safe_ given Boy Wonder's line of work but I suppose you can't have everything." Harry smirks at her brother as she takes a drink. 

John scoffs in amusement and thinks for a minute, mulling over the things that got him to this point in his life. "I am happy. Really." He looks as if this is a revelation. Like he never truly thought about it. Like he didn't allow himself to because he was scared he'd lose it.

"Good." Their glasses clink together. “Let’s invite them back in, shall we?”

 

Sherlock walks back in with Rosie. It took him about half a second to realize something was off. He peered at Harry and John’s faces as he let John take Rosie from him. “What’s wrong?”

Harry sighed. “How do you-?”

“My father showed up.” John interrupted her while pulling Rosie closer and holding her tight.

“What?” Sherlock searched around the room in panic. “Why? Did he know you were here?”

Harry took a breath to answer him and realized… “Oh, shit!” She ran back into the living room as fast as she could to retrieve her phone.

Sherlock leaned over to whisper to John. “Do you want me to call anyone? I can get Greg here in five minutes.”

John put a hand on Sherlock’s arm. “No, Sherlock...”

“Mycroft, then?”

“We don’t need to call anybody.” John says hurriedly.

Harry shouts from across the room. “Yes, we do! Mum!” With a worried look in her eye, she frantically dialed the number on her phone and held it up to her ear.

John walked quickly over to her in hopes of overhearing the conversation. Harry started pacing and biting her fingernail as the phone rang.

Their mother picks up. “Hello?”

_She sounds alright._

Harry struggles to keep her voice calm. “Hey, Mum. Are you alright? Did Dad…talk to you today?”

“Oh, dear. Yes b-but I am alright! N-nothing happened, sweetheart. I just…” She hesitates but continues with a more worried tone. “Wait, he didn’t...? Are you OK? What happened?!”

“Nothing! We’re fine. He just showed up and…” Harry looks up at John, eyebrows drawing together, “left soon after. It’s fine and I just needed to know if you’re safe.”

“Honey, I’m alright. I’m so sorry.” Her mother huffs. “I was just talking to one my friends about you a-and he overheard me and then left- I assume to go drinking! He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No.” Harry falls into the couch and leans back, right arm limp at her side and blue eyes forced shut. “No. He didn’t.”

John sits down next to Harry. She looks over at him and says into the phone “Would you like to talk to John?”

“Can I?” Her mother says before Harry gives the phone to John. He gets into a more comfortable position on the couch with Rosie on his lap, right arm leaning on the armrest, and the phone in front of him now on speaker.

“Hi.” He says softly. He can hear rustling through the phone. His mother is probably fidgeting a lot by now.

“Hi.” Her reply comes out with a relieved laugh. “I am so sorry, John. I hope everything’s really alright. H-how’s Rose?”

 

Sherlock watches them with interest. Worry melting away, replaced with intrigue. Now that most of the excitement had ended, it seemed, John was more relaxed around his sister. Sherlock walked closer to sit on one of the chairs surrounding the glass coffee table. Harry’s hand rested on John’s shoulder as they both continued their conversation with their mother.

She had eventually calmed down, realizing her children were out of danger. They had moved on from the topic of their father to the reunion. “So, is it just the three of you?” Sherlock heard their mother ask. _Really should learn her name._

John shifts in his seat a little and answers with a smile, “No, um…I brought…somebody with me.”

“Little John’s finally got a boyfriend, Mum!” Harry said into the phone teasingly. John nudges her.

“Is that so?” Their mother sounded delighted. John leaned over and brought the phone closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock's expression turned into that of a nervous boy. “Hello, Ms. Watson.” Sherlock said stiffly.

“Oh, please, none of that! Call me Lilian. You know, we really should meet someday! Maybe I should join you for the next reunion.”

Harry looks over at John as she says, “That might be nice.” They grin at each other.

Sherlock watches with amused curiosity as the two continue to make plans for the following event. It’s possible, he mused, he could get used to socializing without having to focus on any experiment if _this_ is his company.

His family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might continue this story later but as of right now, this is basically complete. If you want, you can subscribe to me so if/when I make the next chapter, you'll see it.
> 
> What did you think of this one? Did you like it? Did you hate it? What were your favorite parts?
> 
> Kudos and comments will make me love you forever. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to post Chapter 2 soon but until then, you can contact me on...
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dtw_izzie)
> 
> [tumblr](https://dtwizzie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Any comments are much appreciated! :)


End file.
